Page 38 of Same Time Next Year

SUMNER

I’m here, but I’m not.

I’m standing in the bench area, helmet on. Can’t feel the stick in my hand.

A local veteran is singing the national anthem, and though my arm feels too heavy to keep my palm flattened over my heart, I keep it there, trying to focus despite the horrible buzzing in my head.

I shouldn’t have let Britta leave.

I’m flying to California tomorrow morning, which gave me approximately twenty-four hours to convince her coming with me is the right choice, but now I’m worried I squandered every minute of today. I was flattened after she left. Then my family convinced me to give her some space to think. That she would make the right decision with a little time and consideration. Now, I’m worried that idea was garbage. I should have gone to Sluggers, carried her into the office, and kissed her until we were on the same page. I should have been more understanding. More patient. I should have, should have, should have ...

How the hell am I going to play this hockey game with my chest in a vise?

Part of me wishes Britta would make it easier to be in love with her. By loving me back, by following me to Anaheim because she can’t stand to be apart any more than I can. But honestly,no. No, I don’t wish that. Because knowing that I love her no matter the circumstances, no matter the pain, no matter the indefinite state of the future, means it’s forever.Forever.And she has no fucking idea how long and hard I’ll work to keep her.

I’m going to start my campaign to bring her west as soon as I land in California. I’m going to call her relentlessly. I’m going to visit Bridgeport so often, she’ll wonder if I ever left. If I have to spend every dime of my savings on flights, so be it. When she opens her apartment door in the mornings, there will be flowers waiting in the hallway, just delivered. I’m going to write her name in silver Sharpie on my skates, maybe my helmet, for every game if they let me.

She isnotdone with me.

Someone shoves me in the back.

Turning around and showing any interest whatsoever is difficult, when Britta is all I can or want to think about, but I manage to glare at Bryce. “What was that?” I study his face for a moment, noticing he doesn’t look as worried as he did in the locker room before the game. “What are you so smug about?”

A smile spreads across his face, and he jerks his chin toward the crowd.

I’m guessing one of my sisters has made an embarrassing sign about me or put one of the kids in a Mayfield jersey. Through gritty eyes, I search the family section of the stands behind the bench and ... right away something looks off. Everyone is wearing maroon and white, except for one person. She’s in white and teal, sitting smack in the middle of everyone.

My stick clatters to the ground. “Britta.”

I’m too stunned to move. She’s here. She’s at a game.

She came—and God, she’s so beautiful that for a moment, I wonder if I dreamed being inside her, sleeping with her in my arms last night. That woman wearsmyring. Holy shit.

But what does it mean that she’s wearing an Anaheim jersey?

And a lumberjack hat. With flaps. Like my grandmother used to wear to games.

The kind I told her I would love to see again one day in the stands.

She remembered.

I’m distracted from a barrage of happy realizations ... when I see where she’s sitting. Oh God, she’s three seats away from her father. Bryce’s father. I barely stop myself from launching through the partition to get between them. To wrap myself around her like human Bubble Wrap so no bad memories can get within an inch of her perfect heart. But although she looks nervous, a little shell-shocked, she firms her chin and stays seated. She stays ...

She looks at me with luminous eyes. Blows out a long breath.

And she nods.

A hoarse sound rips out of me, just as the anthem ends. I want to believe that nod means she’s coming to California, but if I let myself believe that and it proves to be untrue, I don’t think I would survive the disappointment. And Christ, I can’t be greedy. The fact that she’s here at the game is huge in itself.

My girl is so fucking brave. She faced her father for me. The person in her life who didn’t choose her and made her feel less than, when in reality, she’s the ultimate human being.

Well, I choose her. I’ll choose her every day for eternity.

The need to show her that immediately is overwhelming. Too big to deny.

I pull off my helmet and let it fall, shouldering my grumbling teammates out of the way until I’m at the entrance to the team bench, but I can’t pull it open. “Somebody come unlock this door,” I roar, only breathing again when one of the trainers hustles over, fumbling a pair of keys.While he’s getting it open, I crane my neck to look through the glass and find my sisters pulling a hesitant Britta out of her seat, dragging her toward me—

And I burst through the exit just in time for her to reach the bench, catching her up in my arms and then wrapping them around her as tightly as they’ll go. I’m even taller in my skates, meaning she’s over a foot off the ground, but she doesn’t seem to mind or notice, because her arms are around my neck and she’s holding me just as tightly.

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